


What Atton Saw

by Cantatrice18



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: Knights of the Old Republic (Video Games), Star Wars: Knights of the Old Republic 2: The Sith Lords
Genre: Awkwardness, Clearing the air, Empathy, Gen, Missing Scene, dual perspective
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-19
Updated: 2020-02-19
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:14:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22804639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cantatrice18/pseuds/Cantatrice18
Summary: Visas confronts Atton about his "medical treatment" post-battle. Atton must admit just how much of her body he saw...
Kudos: 5





	1. Visas

She made too much noise. The swish of her skirts, the intake of breath. Her master had always been able to hear her from the very back of the bridge, and had punished her for her transgressions. What good was a spy, after all, if they could be heard?

Nonetheless, the human male appeared not to notice her until she stood in the medbay doorway, well within lightsaber’s reach. He jumped and swore, taking a few hasty footsteps back. She felt his surprise and alarm through the force, along with other emotions hastily shoved aside. There would be time to address those later, if she so wished. Right now she had questions. “Your name is Atton, is it not?” she asked.

He said nothing, but she could feel him nod. “You cared for me when I first arrived.” 

It was not a question, merely a statement of fact, yet Atton’s emotions flared red. “I . . . you were injured,” he said stiffly.

“Badly,” Visas agreed. “But not from my battle aboard this ship. I’m sure you noticed as much.”

“I. . . may have,” Atton said testily. “Wasn’t paying too much attention.”

His emotions betrayed his casual tone, flaring and swirling about. Embarrassment and panic were there, and something new to her: sympathy. She was not used to sensing such a feeling. The closest thing she’d experienced had been aboard the Ravager, emanating from one of the older guards tasked as a sentry outside her cell. She’d sensed the man’s pity during a particularly brutal bout of torture. Her master had sensed it too. She’d never felt the guard’s presence again after that. 

Atton had taken more steps away from her, and she heard the clink of bottles as he busied himself with something. Distracting himself, perhaps, or trying to end their conversation before it began. She could not let him go just yet. “How much did you see?” she asked bluntly.

Panic flared. “See what?”

“My body,” Visas pressed impatiently. “I know you cared for me. I wish to know how deep your investigation into my wounds went. How much did you see?”

A pause, then—

“Everything.”

It was Visas’s turn for panic. “Everything?” she gaped.

“I had to make sure you weren’t bleeding or injured,” Atton defended. “You’d passed out, you could have been hemorrhaging, or maybe our Exile stabbed you somewhere, or—”

“Everything,” Visas whispered. She felt odd, a prickling feeling tracing its way down her spine. All her scars laid bare before this stranger. And yet he’d healed her. He’d brought himself to touch her even after seeing the shattered, broken shell of a body her old master had left her with. She could not see her body, but she could feel every ragged scar and fractured bone. She could piece together an image of herself in her mind, and that image was monstrous. And Atton had healed her anyway. “Why didn’t you let me die?” she asked hoarsely.

“Die?” Atton asked, surprise overtaking his embarrassment. “But your injuries weren’t mortal. I wasn’t about to watch you slowly bleed to death. I—”

More bottles clinking. She imagined him looking away. “I don’t know what happened to you,” he admitted. “It’s none of my damn business, anyway. But as a rule I don’t approve of torture. Particularly not Sith torture. There’s a nastiness to it. They enjoy it a bit too much.”

“It brought my master pleasure,” Visas said softly. “Every cut, every bruise. He reveled in it.”

Part of her was surprised to find herself talking to this stranger about her most intimate, painful memories. Then again, he’d seen her. “Will you tell anyone else about me? About my body?”

Atton coughed. “I . . . may have mentioned something to our illustrious leader already,” he admitted. “No specifics, though. And no one’s seen you but me.”

Visas pondered for a moment. The Exile was not her enemy, and was surely too kindhearted to judge her. Their battle had proved that much, at least. So long as she could keep her injuries hidden around the others, she would feel secure. “Thank you,” she said at last. “You’ve treated me with great respect.”

“No more than you deserve,” Atton replied with unusual gravity. “I’ll keep your secret for as long as you want. But if you’re ever in pain, you can come to me.”

Visas smiled and retreated to her quarters. She would not be taking Atton up on his offer, not unless some other battle left her badly wounded. These days she’d grown used to the constant gnaw of pain throughout her limbs, the grinding of her ribs. The injuries were a part of her now. That Atton knew about them was unfortunate, but not threatening. Atton, it turned out, was one of those rare men who understood a woman’s privacy. She did not doubt his promise to keep her secret. With luck no one else need ever know what lay beneath her long robes.


	2. Atton

She was the quietest woman he’d ever not-heard. He prided himself on his reflexes, his constant awareness, but somehow she’d managed to sneak up on him anyway. He jumped a foot in the air when he finally saw her, panic making him reach for his blaster. Thankfully she didn’t appear to be in the mood for an attack. “Your name is Atton, is it not?” she asked formally.

He nodded warily.

“You cared for me when I first arrived,” she continued.

Atton felt himself blush as he recalled the circumstances of their “meeting”. It wasn’t often he found himself undressing unconscious sith women in the dead of night. “I . . . you were injured,” he said awkwardly.

“Badly,” the Miraluka admitted. “But not from my battle aboard this ship. I’m sure you noticed as much.”

“I. . . may have,” Atton reluctantly replied. “Wasn’t paying too much attention.”

He was lying, of course. How could he not have noticed the injuries that littered the woman’s body? Fractured bones; long cuts, both smooth and ragged; bruises from blunt trauma. Looking at her now, he could hardly believe how easily she stood in the doorway. She was incredibly resilient, or perhaps merely proficient at hiding her pain. He wondered, not for the first time, how she’d managed to survive her ordeal. He doubted he himself would have endured, given the extent of the torture she’d experienced. Noticing the stiffness in her shoulders, he felt a pang of sympathy. Perhaps she was not so accustomed to pain after all. 

Shaking off his feelings of pity – the woman was sith, after all, and dangerous – he went over to the cabinet and started rearranging the medbay’s bottles of antiseptics and burn sprays. 

The woman watched him, or seemed to. “How much did you see?” she asked him suddenly.

Panic flared. “See what?”

“My body,” the woman pressed impatiently. “I know you cared for me. I wish to know how deep your investigation into my wounds went. How much did you see?”

How much had he seen? “Everything,” he admitted.

“Everything?” the woman gasped, looking horrified.

“I had to make sure you weren’t bleeding or injured,” Atton defended. “You’d passed out, you could have been hemorrhaging, or maybe our Exile stabbed you somewhere, or—”

“Everything,” she whispered, cutting off his protests. Her expression was one of desolation. “Why didn’t you let me die?” she asked hoarsely.

“Die?” Atton asked, surprise overtaking his embarrassment. “But your injuries weren’t mortal. I wasn’t about to watch you slowly bleed to death. I—”

He broke off. Memories of that night, of removing her clothing piece by piece, only to find more scars, came back in a rush. He looked away, trying to focus on the bottles he still held. “I don’t know what happened to you,” he admitted. “It’s none of my damn business, anyway. But as a rule I don’t approve of torture. Particularly not Sith torture. There’s a nastiness to it. They enjoy it a bit too much.”

“It brought my master pleasure,” the woman said softly., her voice making Atton shiver. “Every cut, every bruise. He reveled in it.”

Anger flared in Atton’s chest, righteous fury at any man who would torture for entertainment’s sake. He'd known such men before, had despised them even as he'd worked alongside them. It was a time in his life he wasn't proud of, but he liked to think that he himself would have refrained from such cruelty. Regardless, it made perfect sense, given the woman’s injuries, that her tormentor would be that sort of man. The wounds were too evenly spread for a classic interrogation. This “master” she spoke of clearly liked his victim’s injuries to be symmetrical. The sadistic bastard.

The woman shifted weight, drawing his eye to the way her veil fell to cover her face. “Will you tell anyone else about me? About my body?”

Atton coughed, embarrassed. “I . . . may have mentioned something to our illustrious leader already,” he admitted. “No specifics, though. And no one’s seen you but me.”

He shouldn’t have said anything, but he’d wanted the jedi to understand just how fragile their new guest (prisoner?) truly was. Given her prowess in battle, it would be deceptively easy to consider her whole and uninjured. Atton had just wanted to give a clearer picture of the woman’s physical state. Only now did he realize how personal that information had been. He felt guilt pinch at him, but the woman did not seem angry. “Thank you,” she said quietly. “You’ve treated me with great respect.”

“No more than you deserve,” Atton replied, letting his guard drop just an inch. “I’ll keep your secret for as long as you want. But if you’re ever in pain, you can come to me.”

The woman smiled and departed in silence, leaving Atton alone with his medicines. He stared after her, lost in thought. He realized he didn’t even know her name, and kicked himself before resigning himself to asking the jedi later. In any case, it looked like the sith woman would be with them for some time to come. He hoped she would look after herself. He doubted the man who’d left her body in such a state would be pleased at her defection. She would need all the luck she could get.


End file.
